


hardly a crowd

by pvwork



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M, Underage Drinking, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 04:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pvwork/pseuds/pvwork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dipper Pines through the ages. Co-staring Wendy and Robbie, who are fabulous and kick-ass and will not be left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hardly a crowd

**Author's Note:**

> I just really like Dipper, okay.

When Dipper is twelve he makes a Cold War pact with Robbie to hate each other in silence. 

Like girls do. 

*

When Dipper is fifteen he kisses Wendy for the first time. Her lips are chapped, and she smells like pine scented soap, and the lining of her lumberjack hat feels less furry and more gritty than he had would have thought under his hands as he reaches up to gently lift it from her head so he can tangle his fingers in her long, red hair. 

Wendy's slow blooming smile is beautiful as she breaks away from the kiss and Dipper feels an answering smile spread across his own lips. He's close enough to count her freckles, but he tries to kiss each of them instead. 

*

When Robbie is twenty-two he buys Dipper a beer. It's Dipper's first beer and he can't quite believe that Robbie going to be offering him of all people a drink "on the house". 

"Uh--I was actually going to order an orange juice for Mabel and a club soda for Soos." 

"And you'll have a beer and you can bring these three drinks back to the table." 

Dipper hmm's and haw's until Robbie finally throws his hands up into the air and rolls his eyes to the heavens like he is praying for the patience not to strangle Dipper to death. 

"We live in rural Oregon. Lumberjacks still exist. You regularly bring about ghosts and monsters just with your presence. Wendy is studying to become a doctor so that she can fix your shitty ass up whenever you come back to civilization looking like Hell took you for a joy ride and your wacky paranormal shit has forced me to write crazy, creepy songs that have rocketed my, admittedly, already amazing emo-rock band into stardom last summer. I just got back from tour. You know this shit. Have a fucking beer, you little asshat."

Slowing raising a finger connected to one noodle-ly arm , Dipper begins to make a point about how Robbie's very sudden outburst followed no real line of logic and had no apparent reason to result in Dipper having to drink a beer, but Robbie was already moving away dismissively to serve other patrons at the Barking Gremloblin. 

"Is it weird that Gruncle Stan actually took up one of my ideas?" Mabel asks brightly. She's painting her nails with clear polish and dipping them into glitter as she speaks. 

"No? I guess he was trying to cater to a wider group of people. Other than everyone under ten and over forty-three."

"Probably. I still think he should had named this place Mabel." Mabel says, and gestures broadly with one sparkling hand to signify that she could just see a glitter splattered sign depicting her name hanging in front of the little cafe that Stan built upon Mabel's suggestion. "Is that a beer?" 

"Yeah. Robbie gave it to me. Weird, huh?" 

"Let's split it!"

"That's probably for the best." 

And later, when Dipper is holding Mabel's hair back as she throws up gummy koalas (...and are those sparkles?) he thinks about how warm he had felt yesterday evening, sipping on flat beer and laughing loudly at Mabel's buzzed antics. Three beers each, a mint mojito for Mabel, and they chased it all down with three shots of something that burned. They were so ill by midnight. He'd felt young and happy and maybe some of that was the alcohol, but a significant portion of the warmth lining his insides had to do with the surprisingly happy feelings Robbie's unexpected gesture of kindness brought about. An eighteenth birthday party for the books.

*

Robbie is twenty-six when he goes on his first (unofficial) "monster hunt". 

"Why am I on this road trip again?" Robbie moans from the backseat. It's so hot that not even shorts and a ratty tank top can alleviate the discomfort of existence. 

Dipper would know because the skin on his back and legs keep sticking to the leather upholstery and he is half expecting the very sweat on his skin to begin to steam because it is that hot. Central Valley. Very hot. 

"You love Wendy very much." Dipper says. 

"She's loving you right now, so I don't see why I have to be here riding along." 

"She would be happier if both of us are there. And let's not forget the hissy fit you threw when I asked if I could borrow your band van. You wouldn't let me drive unless you came along." Dipper adds. 

"It's, like, nearly a thousand miles from Gravity Falls to L.A.!" Robbie says.

"You're not even driving." Dipper says. Because it's true. Robbie has never gotten his driver's license. 

"Didn't seem necessary. All my band mates drive and we operate under the buddy system." He'd said when Dipper asked six hundred miles ago. 

They stop in San Francisco, because Robbie wants to try vegan burgers and flirt awkwardly at cool girls running thrift shops with snake bites on their lips. Instead, Robbie walks into a succubus as they are checking into their hotel room for the night. 

He literally walks into her and knocks her over. She rubs her head ruefully as he tries to be gentlemanly and help her up all the while stuttering his apologies, stunned by her beauty and drawn by her aura of power. 

The first night, Robbie falls asleep almost the moment his head hits the pillow of the only tiny bed in the room. Dipper unfolds the futon and grumbles about inconsiderate jerks through the night. Scratchy sheets, Robbie's gross snoring, and the strangeness of an unknown bed make him too uncomfortable to fall into a deep sleep. 

As the sun rises on the second day, Robbie wakes up with dark circles under his eyes and a small smile playing along his lips. It seems like he's lost weight during the night, if that was even possible and Dipper is forced to bring breakfast up to the room and pay for a second day and night at the hotel, haggling with the front desk about rates and playing with heartstrings. Puppy dog eyes. Everywhere. 

Robbie snarks and sniffs in bed, he sips orange juice and channel surfs as Dipper figures that another day of rest in (miraculously) air conditioned quarters won't hold back their progress too much. He'll just drive all night tomorrow. Not worried about seeing Wendy on time. No lists are being made here. Not worried about Robbie's sudden decline in health. Nope. Nope. Nope.

The second night sees Dipper sleepless and upset. He's too worried (okay, he admits it) to go to sleep so he spends it flipping through 3, reading about old and familiar monsters. 

It isn't until the third day, when Robbie is hardly conscious in the morning, feverishly muttering and looking a bit like a pre-deadened-corpse-thing that Dipper begins to honestly and vehemently Freak Out. 3 isn't really helpful, so Dipper is forced to take to the Internet and what he finds is pretty disturbing. 

He hasn't always liked Robbie. Sometimes, he'd wished Robbie wasn't around at all, but dying because some mystical magic woman was sucking out your life essence through your dick seemed kind of extreme. Dipper wouldn't want to wish that on anyone. 

So it's down the stairs and to the kitchen to grab a bag of salt for precaution's sake, a couple boxes of cherry tomatoes for snacks, and a few Red Bull to stay conscious. And then there was a detour to the front desk to ask for a woman who checked in at the same time as himself, because he thinks she might have been on the same Greyhound they rode in on and he's found something of hers that he sincerely hopes to return in person because it seems like a pretty private thing, and really, honest, good-est intentions right here. Then it's back into the kitchen after ordering fake room service with a text (technology these days, am I right?) and into the bottom shelf of a dining cart that is to be wheeled up to one Dorene Anderson's room. 

It's kind of a long story after that. Some blood. Some screaming. Robbie sleeping all day for two days in the backseat of the van as Dipper drives down to L.A. Dipper takes cat naps instead of sleeping at night, laying down in the open space of the band van where usually the drum kits and the keyboards were stored with some blankets he bought at a thrift shop, too scared to check into another hotel, too wired to think straight and nursing bruised ribs and a cut that won't heal on his left leg.

At this point, seeing Wendy is the only thing that matters. That and the horrifyingly high price of gas in California, which is enough to scare even the most seasoned monster hunters.

*

When Wendy is twenty five she is offered a two for one deal that she cannot resist.


End file.
